


Con los Pies por Delante.

by NoSarcasmForYou



Series: You’re Next! [1]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Gen, Major Spoilers, Prequel, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-04 19:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoSarcasmForYou/pseuds/NoSarcasmForYou
Summary: Death was nothing like Hector had imagined.(MAJOR SPOILERS FOR COCO)





	1. Vamos a Morir

**Author's Note:**

> Major spoilers for Coco (2017), even though this is technically a prequel. Please watch the movie before reading. 
> 
> I will only use Spanish in this fic for 'Mexicanismos' (colloquialisms) or words that I like better in Spanish than English. I'll add information on each one as a link whenever possible. If not, you'll find more information on the end notes. 
> 
> English isn't my first language, so feel free to correct me, as I have no beta reader.

Death was nothing like Hector had imagined.

Not that he had imagined dying all that often, oh no, but he had heard plenty about it growing up from all kinds of people and now he knew they were wrong.

He wished he could feel smug about it.

He wished he could feel anything at all.

Huh.

Wasn’t he supposed to be scared? Sad? Angry? Confused?

Dying was a BIG DEAL and yet there he was, dead and...wait...where was he?

As if answering to his thoughts, his surroundings revealed themselves little by little. First, a light. Cold and pale, yet strong enough to illuminate the yellowish walls of the cave he was in and the turquoise water surrounding him.

A [cenote](https://www.selvatica.com.mx/es/what-is-a-cenote/), then.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, more and more details became obvious. The stalactites of all shapes and sizes hanging from above. The dark stones he was standing on and the long path they made over the water. The skeleton waving at him at the end of said path. The fat drops of water sliding down the stalactite-

A startled scream tore its way out of him before his mind had time to fully register what he was seeing and it was only the water surrounding him in almost all directions that kept him from running away.

That and the skeleton looking back at him when he inched closer to the water looking for a way to escape. A skeleton that looked suspiciously like himself.

There was no confusion after that. Hector knew he was staring at his reflection with the same certainty that he knew he was dead. With the same certainty that told him he would never be able to go back to his family. To his Coco.

...perhaps not feeling wasn’t so bad after all.

“Oh good, you’re aware!”

Right, the skeleton was talking. Why not?

Now that his mind wasn’t stuck in ‘Skeleton! Waving skeleton!’ mode, he could actually take in the details.

The large hat on top of the skeleton’s head. The white blouse and heavy, long skirt. The two bandoliers hugging its shoulders...her shoulders, he realized suddenly. He was standing before a [soldadera](http://umich.edu/~ac213/student_projects06/joelan/index.html).

A soldadera that was impatiently waving at him.

“Hellooooo?” She repeated, taking a few steps closer to him. “You are aware, aren’t you?”

Aware? He wanted to ask. Aware of what? That his life was over? That he was never going to see his daughter again? That he was now a skeleton? That he had been killed by a _pinche_ indigestion?

“Yes” He said instead. “I guess I’m aware.”

“Good, then follow me.”

“Wait! Follow you where? Where are we? What is this place?”

The skeleton, who was already walking away, stopped and stared at him for a few seconds before snapping her fingers.

“Right!” She approached him again, looking bashful. Or as bashful as a skeleton could look. “Sorry, sorry. It’s the first time I volunteer to do this. I forget not everyone is used to being dead when they first arrive here.”

Again with the here. It would’ve been a lot easier to understand what was going on if he only knew where ‘here’ was.

She seemed to realize her mistake soon after, though, as she straightened up and rested her hands on her hips. “Right! We’re in the Land of the Dead. You died and now you’re here.” The bright smile that followed lasted only a fraction of a second before continued so fast Hector almost missed what she was saying. “Not that this is all there is to it! No no. There’s much more to see. This is just a starting place. A quiet place. A place where we can become aware of our new reality.”

“A waiting room for the dead” Hector supplied helpfully, understanding what she was saying.

“No, that’s down the tunnel.”

“Ah”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get a complete explanation by just talking to her, Hector decided to just follow her. She seemed to know what she was doing. Mostly.

“Just lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pinche:
> 
> 1\. That is negligible or very petty.  
> 2\. That is of low quality, low cost or very poor.
> 
> This is a curse word used to degrade anything it refers to. A word to show anger or disdain towards something that offends us.


	2. Rumbo al Cementerio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, death isn't the cure for bureaucracy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little girl in this chapter. Not sure how to tag for that.   
> (Any ideas?)

Hector followed the skeleton in silence, watching as the light illuminating the cenote mingled, and then was replaced, by the light of candles littering the walls of the tunnel. for a few minutes before realizing that a) He was now a skeleton too, so he needed to find another way to refer to her and b) He hadn’t introduced himself at all, though he supposed if anything excused bad manners, dying was certainly it.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself before. I was a little distracted. I’m Hector.”

 

“Hector.” She repeated, sounding way more excited about learning his name than anyone should. Then again, she has mentioned he was ‘her first’, so maybe he was important? “Nice to meet you, I’m Ana. Ana María, actually, but I like Ana better. I’m Ana and I’ll be your volunteer spiritual guide for the next couple of hours or so, so if you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

 

She finished her little speech with a small tilt of her hat that made him smile despite himself.

 

Questions? He had so many he doubted he’d ever get to ask them all even if he had all the time of the world and the tunnel offered no answers whatsoever, so he turned his attention to Ana instead.

 

“Spiritual guide? What’s that? Some kind of job?” Did people work in the afterlife? What kind of afterlife was that?

 

“Volunteer spiritual guide.” She corrected, playing with the hem of her hat. “The role usually falls to alebrijes, but not everyone has one from the get-go, so we set up a volunteer group to welcome the newly dead. Like you!”

 

It was obvious by the way she kept glancing at him that she was waiting for an answer so he smiled down at her.

 

“That’s...nice?” It seemed a little morbid if he was being honest, but he was dead. What did he know about anything?

 

“And practical! We’re much better at the whole bureaucracy thing than alebrijes anyway.”

 

Hector was about to ask her to clarify the last part (surely there couldn’t be such thing as bureaucracy in the afterlife) but his thoughts were interrupted as they approached the end of the tunnel.

 

It was the sound, rather than the light, the gave it away. The way the rocks under his feet gave way to stone floors and their steps echoed in a way he had only heard in big buildings. The hushed sound of voices that grew stronger as they approached was the last clue he needed that they reached their destination and, when they turned a corner and daylight spilled into the tunnel, he was ready for it.

 

What he wasn’t ready for, though, was the place they arrived to.

 

The quiet, somewhat solemn atmosphere of the cenote had been replaced by the largest building Hector had seen in his life, with floors upon floors bustling with activity and dozens of skeletons making their way through the halls; Light spilled from enormous stained glass windows, bathing everything in a dreamlike glow.

 

It was the kind of place Ernesto and him had dreamed of when they left Santa Cecilia. The kind of place that could only be found in the Distrito Federal and that, in their minds, was a sign that they had achieved their dreams of notoriety and fame.

 

Ironic it had taken him _dying_ to finally see a place like that.

 

“Hector. Over here!”

 

As usual, Ana was already several steps ahead, waving at him from the top of some stairs. Stumbling his way through the crowd, he barely made it to her before she started walking again. Luckily, she stopped just a few seconds later to push open a door and, this time, she actually let him in first.

 

“I thought you were joking about the whole waiting room for the dead thing.”

 

The room they arrived to was just as large and elegant as he expected considering where they had come from, but it didn’t have nearly as much people. Or rather, it didn’t feel like it. There were two dozen skeletons mingling about, though most of them were just sitting, either in the waiting room or behind desks, wrangling tons of paperwork.

 

He wanted to ask what the paperwork was for, but he figured he was going to find out soon enough.

 

He sat down on the seat Ana was eagerly patting and tried not to make his staring too obvious as he looked around the room, though by the looks he was getting from other skeletons there, he was far from the only “new one” in town.

 

There was a woman sitting across from him, dressed in a simple yet colorful dress. [The animals and flowers](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ac/67/30/ac67307bae322f396c85640e7ae126f1.jpg) embroidered all over the white dress reminded him of a different part of Mexico, though he couldn’t remember where. Her hair was styled in a single thick braid, very much like Ana’s.

 

A few seats from her, was an old man whose clothes betrayed his wealthy origin. He probably would’ve paid more attention to him, if not for the sight of the little skeleton holding his hand.

 

The girl couldn’t be more than a couple years older than his Coco and the sudden pain that spread through his chest had him looking away, only to meet Ana’s eyes. The soldadera gave him a small, encouraging smile and leaned close to him so she could whisper.

 

“Don’t worry, she’ll be with her family soon.”

 

The worlds failed to reassure him in the slightest.

 

At least the girl didn’t seem particularly sad, or scared for that matter. She was much too busy trying to catch with a multicolored, winged lizard that scampered just outside her reach on its six chicken legs.

 

The delighted chuckle she let out when she finally caught it brought a sad smile to the old man’s face and Hector knew the same smile was on his face.

 

There it was again. Another feeling. Whatever was preventing him from feeling much at all was slowly disappearing and he found himself wishing for it to come back.

 

“What are we waiting for, anyway?” Hector asked, averting his eyes once more and turning his attention to the workers, one of which was waving over the woman in the white dress.

 

“They just need to get your information. There’s a lot of people coming and going and it’s important to keep track of it all.” If there was a rehearsed quality to Ana’s explanation, Hector chose to ignore it. “It’s the easiest way of finding your family members too. Otherwise, you’d just be wandering around until you found them… If you manage to find them, that is, because let me tell you, the Land of the Dead is enormous. I’ve been here for a little over a decade and I’ve yet to explore even…”

 

Hector stopped listening to Ana altogether when the meaning of her words sunk in. Family. He was going to see his family!

 

His parents, his grandfather. Even his uncles, who last he knew had died while fighting in the Revolución.

 

For the first time since he had woken up in the cenote he felt something close to hope, and when the little girl waved at him as she walked past, he found himself smiling back and meaning it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The style of embroidery described is called a "Tenango" and it's popular in my home state, Hidalgo.


	3. Nada es Importante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only moms can make you feel guilty about dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to split this work into different fanfics now. I'll still be writing about the Land of the Dead, but I want to make one-shots now.

If he thought the amount of time he spent talking to the “Department of the Newly Departed” agent, was ridiculous, it was nothing compared to how long he had been forced to sit and just wait for his family to arrive.

 

“It’s a big place.” Ana had explained him, flattening the wrinkles on her skirt for the tenth time that hour. “Really _really_ big, and it only keeps growing! I’m sure they’ll be here any second now. Any second. You just wait.”

 

So he did.

 

With every minute that passed, whatever had kept emotions at bay vanished and he was feeling more and more frantic. What if his family wasn’t around? What if they didn’t want to see him?

 

Granted, his relationship with his family had been pretty good up until they died, but he had no idea how news traveled in the Land of the Dead and he had made some _very_ questionable choices as of lately.

 

Unable to sit still any longer, Héctor sprang to his feet and started wandering around, gesturing at Ana to reassure her that he wasn’t about to leave.

 

Yet.

 

The room itself wasn’t much to look at, and people watching had stopped being entertaining the moment he memorized every face, so he amused himself by simply looking around, walking between paperwork stacked desks and returning the tired glares from the office workers with what he hoped was a charming smile.

 

There was an object at the back of the room that immediately caught his attention and he jogged over, crouching next to it to admire it up close.

 

Radios weren’t common in Santa Cecilia. In fact, there was only one in the entire town, property of Don Rogelio. The old man would move it closer to his window every Sunday and would play music all day long.

 

Héctor played with one of the knobs without actually turning it, focusing instead on his skeletal fingers, still so foreign to him.

 

What kind of music was there in the Land of the Dead? Old music, for sure, but did the dead created new music or did they just play the same things over and over again?

 

“Hector!” The musician was on his feet so fast he actually took the little knob with him. He knew that voice, but more importantly, he knew that tone, so he turned around quickly, hiding the radio piece behind his back and giving the newcomer his brightest, most innocent smile.

 

“Mom!”

 

Rosario Portillo de Rivera looked _exactly_ like Héctor remembered…well, once you got the whole skeleton part out of the equation. She had never been an imposing woman, appearance wise. Short and thin, dying had only made her appear smaller and the colorful [reboso](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e1/71/bf/e171bff782bbd951b59031cd52903888.jpg) she was wearing looked comically large on her frame.

 

The glare she was giving him, however, was anything but small and he found himself rooted to the spot as she made her way to him.

 

“Héctor Rivera. What in God’s name are you doing here?”

 

“I…died?” He glanced in Ana’s direction, but her guide was nowhere to be seen. The _coward_.

 

“That’s the best you have to say? ‘I died?’ We all die, mijo. Doesn’t mean you had to go on and do it so _young.”_

 

Trust his mother to make him feel guilty about dying.

 

“How’s Imelda? And the child? What happened? Are they here? Are they okay?!”

 

Okay, _now_ he felt guilty.

 

“Mom… about that…” He frowned, suddenly realizing something. “Wait, how do you know I have a daughter?”

 

 _Everyone_ in Santa Cecilia knew about his love for Imelda. It had started when he first saw her as a child and had only grown stronger after that. His mother had always liked her and it made sense that she would ask about her, but Coco? She had died before she was even born.

 

“What do you mean how I know? What do you think I do every Día de Muertos? Stay at home _pensando en la inmortalidad del cangrejo?_ ”

 

“Well, when you put it like that…”

 

“Héctor, what happened?”

 

Héctor sighed, absently playing with the little plastic knob while he gathered the courage to explain what had happened. He was ashamed of his actions, he had always been, but it was hard not to feel even worse under the scrutiny of his mother. The woman who had taught him the importance of family and being there for the one you loved.

 

“I…left them. Left Santa Cecilia, actually. I left with Ernesto to try our luck at becoming big musicians and then I died. I wanted to go back to them. I wanted to go back to Imelda and Coco and then I just died.”

 

He wasn’t sure what sort of expression he had as he told her that but it must’ve been something else because she immediately pulled him into a hug that stole whatever resolve he had left, and just like that he was crumbling and weeping into her arms.

 

“Ay mijo” He heard her say, thin fingers running through his hair. “It’s going to be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my landlord and my film teacher, whose names I borrowed. 
> 
>  
> 
> Mijo: Conjoined spanish slang of affection. Mi + hijo, "my son." Can be said to any man or boy, usually by an older person
> 
> "Pensando en la inmortalidad del cangrejo" Literally translated as "Thinking about the immortality of the crab", is a Spanish idiom about daydreaming.


End file.
